"Well, I'm gonna get out of bed every morning... breathe in and out all day long. Then, after a while I won't have to remind myself to get out of bed every morning and breathe in and out...
and, then after a while, I won't have to think about how I had it great and perfect for a while."
~Sam, Sleepless In Seattle
OK, so I never had it great and perfect like Sam and Maggie Baldwin (Who does?), but there were a lot of great and perfect memories over the years, and there were so very many more great and perfect hopes and promises. The losses of this year, the complete demolishment of all of those hopes and promises have left me raw and reeling. Still. And wishing that weren't the case... feeling that I am somehow failing at this... wishing I were stronger... cried less... weren't so weak.
There are "up" days. Joy. Truly happy times with my friends and children. And such wonderful, tender comfort from the Lord.
But, I've needed a lot rest during this season. I'm discovering the worship within grief and the thanksgiving within weakness.
The Lord is my shepherd,
I shall not want.
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures
He leadeth me beside quiet waters
He restoreth my soul
He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His Name's sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of death,
I will fear no evil
For Thou art with me
Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort me.
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies
Thou anointest my head with oil
My cup runneth over
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life
And I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.
~Psalm 23
"He makes me lie down in green pastures"... Why does He have to make me? What is it that makes us (well, I'm speaking for myself here) feel like we should be able to be dealt crises or disaster and get right on up and continue in our efficiency?
We're not supposed to do that. We don't expect someone who just lost a child to cancer to be out hanging the Christmas lights the next day. We aren't shocked when a new widow doesn't immediately host the girl scouts potluck. We're not stunned if our friend who just found out her husband has had a lover for years isn't simultaneously meal planning, coupon clipping, and shopping at Trader Joe's while preparing to teach the women's Bible study.
That would alarm us, right? Like, "Oh, sweetie, you need to sit down and let me take care of you now - I insist, honey" kind of alarm. So, why feel frustrated that I'm aching, disoriented, and painfully aware of every bone and sinew like someone who just woke up in the hospital after a car crash?
This is the ICU. This place. Right here. Right now.
The note on my bedside table says:
Get out of bed.
Get in the Word.
Take a shower.
Eat real food.
Exercise.
Do something for someone else.
Laugh.
Go to bed at a decent hour.
I need this note because otherwise I'd just walk into walls.
My son will not see me. My son. My heart walking around outside my body. He won't speak to me. And so, this is a season of walking into walls.
"A time to weep and a time to laugh
A time to mourn and a time to dance."
Ecclesiastes 3.4
So, why does God have to hog-tie us to get us to lie down in green pastures for Heaven's sake?
One of the toughest things about a little time going by is that more and more people know. And more friends have been entrusted with a few details to pray with me and for our family. But, sometimes talking about things that up until now have been between me, God, and a very select group of prayer warriors opens up a can of... train wreck.
(By the way, if you really, really need a good old fashioned cryfest, please and by all means you have my blessing to watch "Beaches", "Steel Magnolias", "Marley & Me", or "The Champ", but never, ever, and I mean, never watch "The Way We Were" if you're in the middle of separation or divorce. Trust me.)
Anyway, right now I'm called to rest. Not to try to make too much of each day or accomplish too much. Just walk with God. Bring Him my prayers with thanksgiving for His goodness and mercy. Let Him tend to my heart.
Just breathe in and out all day long.
"He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds."
Psalm 147.3
THANK YOU so much for the permission and encouragement to do this!!! I have been pushing myself to continue all I was doing (before I read that fateful text in July and before I moved out 13 weeks ago) and even do more--meet friends for coffee and meals, etc., etc., etc. They're all good thing...but I am tired. So very, very tired. And yes, sometimes my chest and whole body just ache. And I wonder, "why do I keep pushing??" God has been telling ME to take it easy, to think about all of this (which I've been avoiding) to cry, to journal, to pray, to read His Word. I know that if I don't take the time to do so he's going to get my attention with an illness or "keeps me in bed" headache. And I'm finally listening. He and I had a good talk this morning, I wrote a lot in my journal, read His Word...and although I'm still tired and still hurt, I have some peace.
ReplyDeleteYes, NFT, rest. Rest. Rest. God has got you in His hands and will not let you go.
DeleteThat one sentence about your son...wrecked me. I had to stop reading for the flood of tears cascading down my cheeks. All I can do is feel it with you, hear your heart, pray those prayers that are too deep for words (especially when we have no adequate words, just groaning for redemption and reunion and reconciliation).
ReplyDeleteI hope you do rest, allow a gentle unfolding amid a crushing transition. Be kind to yourself as you've always been to us.
I'm with you.
Thank you, Kelley. Yes, most of those prayers are in unintelligible groans which the Lord alone understands. Thank you for standing with me.
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